


your hands around my neck.

by lordvoldyfarts



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3953203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordvoldyfarts/pseuds/lordvoldyfarts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura just got dumped. Laf takes her to a party where she meets Carmilla, a stranger who comes bearing drunk tips and the key to forgetting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	your hands around my neck.

**Author's Note:**

> my first go at writing hollstein in a long time! hopefully it's not too shabby.

“I don’t _need_ to anything, Lafontaine. I am perfectly content to eat away my sorrows while watching old Diane Sawyer news reports,” Laura says, rather indignantly, from her spot on the bed. Lafontaine stands in the doorway, their arms crossed.

“Hollis, you haven’t left this bed in two days. You’re starting to smell and Perry and I have been taking bets on whether or not you have some forest creatures skittering about underneath your bed. You’re coming. End of story,” They say resolutely and Laura’s nostrils flare. Okay. So maybe she hasn’t left her bed since she was _dumped on her ass_ two days ago but hey, a girl deserves some recoup time before her friends start to badger her about casting another line into the cesspool of dating options that is Silas University. But Lafontaine seems pretty persistent.

And they don’t leave the doorway. Not even when Laura turns her Diane Sawyer news report back on and, maybe a little bit embarrassingly, starts to quote along. Instead, they reach out and grab Laura by the wrist, “Oh no. This isn’t happening. I’m not going to stand here and listen to you regurgitate Diane Sawyer,” They say and they turn and start to dig through Laura’s closet.

“Hey! Invasion of privacy!” Laura exclaims, craning her head over her shoulder. Lafontaine shrugs.

“What, you going to get out of bed and stop me?” They ask and Laura bites her lip. Well. _No._ That hadn’t exactly been in her plan. Lafontaine throws a dress that Laura is pretty certain belongs to her roommate, Betty, onto the bed in front of her. “Put that on. It looks pretty skimpy,” They say and Laura raises an eyebrow.

“This looks like a sequined band aid,” Laura mutters.

“Maybe it’ll patch up your broken heart,” Laf teases from their position in front of the closet. Laura lets out a heavy sigh.

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?” Laura asks, kicking her legs over the edge of the bed. Laf grins.

“Nope. Now get dressed, Hollis. We’ve got a party to crash,” Lafontaine says and Laura’s eyes widen, her plaid pajama pants halfway down her thighs.

“Wait - crash?”

-

Laura’s uncomfortable.

The dress is _itchy_ and this is so not her scene.

She’s pretty sure that nobody in this room has even seen a single episode of The Newsroom and what else can she even talk about?

She’s in the corner, hugging a red solo cup close to her chest. She’s barely taken a sip because really, beer is _disgusting_ , especially when it comes from a keg. She’d managed to lose Lafontaine in the crowd, only half on purpose, and she’s debating the merits of watching a few episodes of The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt in the corner until Lafontaine inevitably drunkenly stumbles upon her and she can convince them that it’s time to leave, when she feels a flick against the cup in her hands. Some beer spills over the rim of the cup and lands on her hand. Laura looks up, ready to give this personal space invader a piece of her mind, but the words get stuck in her throat when she sees the girl in the shadows. She’s got a smirk on her face and Laura’s never seen pure... _thirst_ in someone’s eyes but she swears she sees it in this girls stare. Her tongue flicks out to lick the corner of her mouth. Laura watches. “You know, you’re supposed to drink it,” The girl gestures to the cup in Laura’s hand. Laura laughs, though it’s nervous and shaky.

“It tastes terrible,” Laura replies with a shrug. The girl takes a step closer. She’s horizontal to Laura, her shoulder pressed against the wall while one of her hands travels up to trace the rim of the cup. She tilts her head toward Laura.

“You don’t drink alcohol for the taste, cupcake,” She practically purrs into Laura’s ear.

“Thanks for the life lesson, stranger in a dark corner at a frat party,” Laura replies nervously, taking a step away from the girl because she’s _really_ close and she smells like pomegranate and Laura thinks that if she stays this close, she might do something….questionable. 

“So are you going to drink it or,” She pauses, moving in closer to Laura again and _shit_. This really wasn’t going according to plan, “Are you going to let me take it off your hands?” She finishes and she’s not looking at the cup in Laura’s hands anymore. She’s looking right at her lips. So Laura shoves the cup directly into her eyeline.

“Take it. I don’t think I’m going to stay. This isn’t my kind of thing,” Laura says, waiting for the girl to reach up and take the cup from her hand. She does, wordlessly. Laura figures that if she’s going to slip out at any point, this is it. But for some reason, she doesn’t. The girl makes eye contact with her as she lifts the cup to her lips and Laura is hypnotized. Honestly, she doesn’t think she could move even if she wanted to (and she finds that mostly, she doesn’t really want to). The girl maintains eye contact as she continues to drink, not once taking her mouth off of the rim. She finishes the beer in probably record speed but Laura really doesn’t know how long it takes the average person to chug a cup of beer. She crushes the cup between her fist and lets it fall to the ground. She quirks an eyebrow at Laura.

“I thought you were leaving?” She asks, that smirk coming back and really, she should. She should leave. She should walk away, find her way back to her dorm, and hide underneath her blankets until the sun rises on Monday.

But she doesn’t.

“I was, I am, I mean,” She pauses. For someone pursuing an English degree, she seems to have quite a bit of trouble finding the right words. “I changed my mind,” She finishes and the girls smirk grows. She gestures, vaguely, to somewhere on the other side of the room.

“Follow me,” She says, reaching her hand out. Laura glances down at it with a raised eyebrow.

“I met you in a dark corner at a frat party. I don’t even know your name. There’s no way I’m letting you take me to who knows where. My Dad taught me better than that,” She says, crossing her arms and standing her ground. The girl chuckles.

“Carmilla,” She says. Laura furrows her brow.

“What?” She asks.

“My name. It’s Carmilla. Will you give up the stubborn act and come with me now?” She says and Laura blinks. Oh. She half-expected the girl, _Carmilla_ , to roll her eyes and walk away.

“Come with you where?” Laura asks, continuing and this time Carmilla does roll her eyes. Laura feels a smidge of satisfaction at knowing she’s managed to get a physical reaction out of this girl who appeared so aloof.

“Kegs aren’t the only things these boneheads have at these things, if you know where to look,” Carmilla says and Laura very determinedly avoids the part of that sentence that makes it seem like they’re doing some kind of stealing. Carmilla’s hand is out again and Laura bites her lip.

She could say no. She could go home and maybe rewatch The Newsroom. Or she could put her hand in this virtual strangers and have a shot of some liquor that will probably make her vomit in the morning.

She thinks that maybe she doesn’t quite like the idea of being alone tonight so she puts her hand in Carmilla’s. She lets her pull her to the other side of the room, gripping tightly so she doesn’t get lost in the crowd.

-

She’s forced three tequila shots down and she’s barely able to keep herself standing.

Which is totally why she’s leaning against Carmilla, their hips moving together in time with the music.

(Okay, and maybe she’s doing it because Carmilla is _hot_ and her hands are like fucking torches and she feels the heat from them no matter how far away she is so she might as well let them light her on fire.)

Carmilla’s mouth is hovering over her her bare shoulder and Laura’s head is thrown back against Carmilla’s shoulder.

Carmilla’s hands grip her hips tightly as the bass drops on the song. Laura’s eyes drift closed. “I fucking love this song,” Laura murmurs and Carmilla chuckles against Laura’s skin.

“You’ve said that about every song that’s played, cupcake,” Carmilla whispers in Laura’s ear.

“I’ve _meant_ it about every song, Carm,” Laura exclaims and Carmilla’s fingers grip tightly into Laura’s skin.

“I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t call me that,” She says through clenched teeth and Laura giggles, turning her head just slightly.

“Yeah I said I’d stop calling you Carm if you stopped calling me cupcake, and you haven’t, so. Rules are rules, _Carm_ ,” Laura teases and Carmilla dips her head further, nipping gently at the skin between Laura’s neck and shoulder.

“I’ve never been one for following rules,” Carmilla says, planting a line of kisses up Laura’s neck and Laura turns her head to give her more room.

God, she shouldn’t be doing this. She really shouldn’t. She was only dumped two days ago and really, she’s never been the type to go out and have a revenge one night stand.

But Carmilla is….wonderful. In a way Laura’s never experienced. The way she looks at her makes her feel like she’s a fucking oasis after miles and miles of scorching hot desert. (She’d probably be able to come up with a better metaphor if she wasn’t completely plastered).

And her lips. Oh god her lips. She feels. Oh god. Is she?

“Sorry about this, cupcake,” Carmilla murmurs and then Laura feels it again. Teeth.

It hurts, at first, but then it doesn’t. Then it starts to feel. Euphoric. Laura’s eyes flutter closed and her head starts to fall. Her mind goes fuzzy. Then she doesn’t feel anything at all.

-

She wakes up the next morning, snug in her bed, still in her dress from the night before.

God. Her neck is killing her. Shouldn’t it be her head? At least, that’s what she’s heard about hangovers. She brings a hand up to her neck. Band-aids.

Well those weren’t there last night. She shakes her head. “What the hell happened last night?”

She stretches her arms over her head and when they come crashing down onto the pillow next to her, a piece of paper bounces up. She furrows her eyebrows.

_It’ll bruise. Ice it. Drink water. Take care, cupcake._

The note reads. There’s no name. No signature. No phone number.

And really, Laura only has one question. Who the hell calls someone cupcake?

-

It’s two weeks later and her roommate is missing. She’s called every possible office there is to call and nobody is giving her any answers. She sighs. Fine. She can do this herself.

There’s no more sunlight left in the room. The door opens. Laura jumps, turning around to see if her roommate has made her triumphant return.

She hasn’t.

It’s a girl dressed head to toe in black, with a duffel bag on her shoulder. She tosses it down on Betty’s bed.

Laura furrows her eyebrows. “Excuse me but, who the hell are you?” And for some reason, her fingers drift up to the band-aids still on her neck because the holes still haven’t quite closed. She turns to Laura with a smirk.

“Carmilla. I’m your new roommate, _cupcake_.”


End file.
